The California Coven Project

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The California Coven Project Page 21

by Bob Stickgold


  “Are you threatening to go to the D.A. if I throw you out now?”

  “No. And if the D.A. approaches me, I’ll claim doctor patient privilege and they won’t get a word from me. I meant it when I said id like to help.” Neither of them made a move. Krueger sighed. “If you ask me again, I’ll leave, but I wish you’d let me help.”

  She almost relented. She wanted so much to sit down with a cancer specialist, and tell him all they had accomplished. But it was the urgency of that desire that held her back. “Bill, I appreciate your offer, but I’m afraid to make that decision too fast. So let me think on it. If you would just not spread what you know, that would be helping us—me—a lot.”

  Krueger frowned. “Well, I’m sorry I can’t convince you, Maggie. But keep me in mind—for anything you might need, not just medical advice.”

  “Thanks, Bill.” She shook his hand, and he left. She was still leaning against the door when she heard him drive away.

  * * *

  “Hi, Carol, how ya doing?” Melanie found her at her locker after school.

  “Usual. Honestly, Mrs. Kaderin drives me bats with her dippy ‘Boys and girls, I’ve got a great idea’ voice She’s a real basket case if you ask me.”

  “Yeah—Say, did you hear the news?”

  Carol tensed. “What news?”

  “Another one died.” Carol looked confused. “That guy at the hearings, he said that another one of the people treated by those women died. Didn’t your mom tell you?”

  “No,” Carol admitted. “But why should she know?”

  “Well, I mean, you said that she thought she knew some of the people at the hearings, So I thought maybe they told her.” She was clearly fishing for an explanation.

  “Any other reasons?” Carol asked pointedly.

  “Well, there is your grandmother.” she said tentatively.

  “What about my grandmother?”

  “Well, don’t get mad about it. Everyone in the school knows about it. I mean, you never tried to hide it or anything.”

  “Hide what?” Carol’s voice rose almost to a scream.

  “That your grandmother suddenly recovered from her cancer. I mean, how dumb do you think people are? Your mother’s a midwife, and your grandmother suddenly gets cured of cancer. You think people can’t put two and two together?”

  “And just what do they get when they put two and two together?”

  Melanie took a step backward. “Well, what they say—and I’ve never said it once to anyone—is that your mom is one of those women who are treating cancer patients, because that’s how your grandmother got better.”

  “Who says that?”

  “Oh, I can’t even remember. But it’s not just one or two people who asked me. Lots have.”

  “And why do they ask you?”

  “Come on, Carol, everyone knows that we’re good friends.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t count on it if I were you.” Turning, Carol stomped off.

  She ran all the way home.

  Maggie was sitting in the kitchen, still recovering from Krueger’s visit, when she heard Carol running up the driveway. It was amazing how much energy that child had, she thought. But the minute Carol entered the room Maggie knew something was wrong.

  “Mom, Melanie says that it’s all over school. Everyone knows!”

  Her heart leaped into her throat. “Everyone knows what?”

  “That you cured Gramma.” She stopped for a breath. “And she says that McCardle announced at the hearings today that another man died from the potion.”

  “I know about the death, but what’s this about people knowing about Gramma?”

  Carol tried to calm down enough to talk coherently, and then dropped into a chair. She related her conversation with Melanie word for word. “I don’t want to get arrested. Do you think we should go to Judy’s?”

  Maggie frowned. “I don’t know. The situation’s getting tighter, but I just don’t think it’s time yet—I think we’re just jumpy. I almost bolted this afternoon.” She told Carol about Krueger’s visit. “But it isn’t clear to me that the police are learning anything new. It’s just that we’re learning what other people know. We mustn’t confuse the two. I think in a few more days we’ll be in a better position to tell.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  ON Tuesday, McCardle announced a fourth “victim,” again without anyone in the Coven having heard about it first, and Amy told Maggie that one of the apprentices, she wouldn’t say which, had apparently gone underground.

  Wednesday morning, Maggie was awakened by an excited Carol. “Mom, look at this!” Carol shoved a newspaper into Maggie’s hands as she tried to come fully awake.

  “Where? What am I supposed to read?”

  Carol pointed to an article by a columnist. It was in the San Francisco Chronicle, and the headline was THEY REALLY CAN CURE CANCER! Maggie read it quickly. “Over the last week,” it began, there has been much reportage of State Senator Steven McCardle’s claim that midwives have been secretly treating cancer patients, three of whom have subsequently died. During that week I have been contacted by, and have met with, two women who claim that their cancer has been cured by this same group of women. I have spoken with both of their doctors, and the men admit that their patients, both of whom had terminal cancer, had experienced ‘spontaneous remissions,’ sudden and unexplainable cures. Both women claim that the improvements followed immediately after their participation in a week-long series of treatments offered at no cost by a secret organization.” The article continued, describing, surprisingly well, the course of the treatment and the women’s responses. In conclusion, the columnist called upon the Coven to come out into the open. “If, as these two women claim, you do have a cure for cancer, there is no need to hide it. We call upon you to come forward, and share your secret with Mankind.” Maggie folded the paper.

  “Isn’t it great?” Carol asked. “Do you think maybe we can just go public now?”

  Maggie frowned. “I don’t know.” She pointed at the paper. “He doesn’t have to worry about going to prison on a felony rap. I don’t think I’m ready to confess quite yet.”

  “Well, you should tell him that.”

  “Tell who what?”

  “Him!” Carol pointed at the paper. “Call him up, and tell him why you aren’t willing to come out yet. Maybe he could get them to promise not to prosecute. At the least, he could publish what you say, so everyone will know.”

  “A press release!” Maggie thought a moment. “I’d have to check with everyone, to see how they felt about it, but I think you’re right. I think this is the time to admit that we exist.” Throwing off her covers, she leaped out of bed.

  Maggie spent the rest of the morning writing the statement, and most of the afternoon in a phone booth talking to other members of the Coven. Everyone seemed excited by the idea. The only thing that bothered Maggie was that she didn’t dare call Beckie, and really wanted her thoughts. She trusted Beckie’s political sensibility a lot more than her own. And it bothered her that all the members felt they should identify themselves as the California Coven. Amy had summarized that feeling when she said, “Maggie, if you’re going to demand that they accept us for what we are, then let them accept us as the Coven. The name’ll creep out sooner or later, so make them accept it from the start. Make them acknowledge their fears and deal with them.”

  Late Thursday afternoon Maggie called the columnist, and got his secretary. “Who may I say is calling?” she asked, ever so politely.

  “I’m one of the women who have the cancer cure. I have a statement for him.”

  “One moment please, I’ll see if he’s in.” She put Maggie on hold.

  A few seconds later a man’s voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Mr. Crane? I represent—”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” he said, cutting her off. “You’ll forgive my rudeness, but you’re the fifth caller today with an official statement from the Women Who Can Cure Cancer. Is t
here any way you could possibly convince me that you actually are one of them—for example, could you tell me the names of the two women I wrote about in the column?”

  “I—I don’t know which ones they were.”

  “Well, you could give me the whole list, and I could see if they were on it.”

  “No,” Maggie said. “That would violate patient-doctor ethics. I couldn’t do that without their agreeing. She thought a minute. “Look, you could open the phone book and pick four names out at random, and then add one of the women who called you, and if you read me the list, I could tell you which one it was.”

  Crane thought a moment. “Okay. That sounds fair. Hold on.”

  Maggie stood on one foot, waiting anxiously, though confident that she could recognize any of the names. Crane finally came back on the line. “Very good. I’ve got the list now.”

  Suddenly a woman’s voice came on the phone. “Three dollars for another three minutes please.”

  “What?” Maggie asked.

  “Hello?”

  “Your three minutes are up. It will be three dollars for three additional minutes.”

  “Operator?” It was Crane asking. “Can you reverse the charges to me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please do then” The operator signed off. “Are you calling from a pay phone?”

  “Yes,” Maggie admitted. “I—I don’t trust my phone anymore.”

  “Of course. Well, let me read you the list.” He read off five names to Maggie.

  “Could you read them again, more slowly?” she asked. She hadn’t recognized any of the names. More slowly Crane reread the list. “But,” Maggie sputtered, “we haven’t treated any of those. Are you sure that you have the right name?”

  “No, that’s fine,” Crane replied. “Neither name was on the list. Now I’ll make up a real list.” Alter a minute, he picked up the receiver again. “Okay. I’ve got a list of ten names here, and I’ve put one of the two women’s names in it. Why don’t you listen to the whole list, and then tell me which one is the right name.” He started down the list. Number five was Fran Powell.

  “That’s it!” Maggie shouted excitedly. “Look, I treated her myself. Every day for seven days. I know she’s the right one.”

  “Well, let me read the rest of the list anyway,” Crane insisted, and quickly read through the rest of it.

  “What!” Maggie blurted.

  “Excuse me?” Crane asked.

  Maggie was furious. “That last one, Ann Stone. Did she call you, too?”

  “I thought you said Fran Powell was the one you treated,” Crane objected.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, I can imagine Fran calling you, but I can’t imagine that Ann did. That’s really outrageous. Did she see you last Friday?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact she did. How did you know?” Crane asked.

  Maggie didn’t answer. She had taken her mother to the airport early Friday morning for her 9:30 flight to Chicago, and Ann had insisted that Maggie not stay with her until boarding time. Obviously she had then ducked out and driven to San Francisco before catching a later flight.

  “I can’t explain without divulging my own identity, and I don’t want to do that,” she explained.

  “Why not?” Crane asked.

  “Because after yesterday’s article, your phone is probably tapped, too.”

  Crane laughed. “Yes, I suppose you might be right. Well, now that I believe you, why did you call?”

  “I have a statement to read, and I would appreciate it if you would run it in your column.”

  “Why not just send it to all the papers?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t sure they’d believe me, or maybe because I thought you might be more sympathetic.”

  “Do you mind if I tape it? So I can get it word for word?”

  “No, that’s fine with me.”

  “Great. Here it goes. Testing, testing. Okay, go ahead.”

  Maggie took a deep breath. “Okay, this is it.” She propped the sheet of paper up in front of her and began to read. “I am making this statement on behalf of the California Coven, and with the approval of that group. The California Coven is a group of professional women employed in health-allied fields. We have in our possession the formula for a potion which is capable of curing cancer. As of this date, we have successfully cured thirty-one individuals who were diagnosed as having terminal cancers of twelve different varieties. All twelve classes have been cured by our potion. Within a well-defined subset of the patients we have treated, the cure has to date proven one-hundred-percent effective, and we have every reason to believe that at least half those now suffering from cancer can be cured quickly and completely by this method. Although we have not had time to perform thorough long-term follow-up studies, the completeness of the reversals witnessed so far makes this potion undoubtedly the most effective anticancer treatment currently available.

  “Because we are not physicians, and because we do not have millions of dollars in federal or drug-company grants for extensive animal tests, we have been forced to test in secret. We deeply regret the necessity of this procedure. We would like nothing more than to bring our potion out in the open, and test it under optimal research conditions. Unfortunately, because of certain unorthodox aspects of the treatment, we cannot trust testing done in the hands of others. At the moment, we cannot discuss this in any detail.

  “The California Coven is, however, willing to make the following offer to society: All members of the organization will make their identities known and join with physicians in clinical testing of our potion if, and only if, two conditions are met. First, the testing will be according to protocols designed by members of the Coven, and all aspects of the testing will be under the direct control of Coven members. Second, the Attorney General will agree not to prosecute any member of the Coven for prior actions which may constitute the practicing of medicine without a license. The members of the California Coven will make themselves known within twenty-four hours of the acceptance of these terms by appropriate persons.”

  Friday morning the statement ran on the front page of the Chronicle, word for word.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  AFTER reading the article in the Chronicle and calling Maggie’s attention to six typographical errors, Carol went off to school. Things might all sort themselves out yet, she thought. I wonder if Melanie will tell me about the story, or if she’s only interested in bad news.

  The morning passed swiftly. Twice friends, people she had not thought knew about her connection to the Coven, mentioned they had seen the article. Melanie had been right about that much. At lunch Carol couldn’t find Melanie. Several of her lunch gang had read the column, and she was a silent celebrity, steadfastly denying any connection with the Coven, though there was just a little smile on her face. Before they headed back for classes Melanie finally rushed in. Where’ve you been?” Carol asked.

  “Shut up!” Melanie whispered, grabbing Carol by the arm. “Come on.” Carol followed without an argument. Melanie’s face was absolutely white. She dragged Carol all the way across the lunch room, looking nervously around all the way. Finally, she pulled her into the women’s bathroom, and leaned against the wall, exhausted. Through a dense cloud of pungent smoke, a dozen other students hardly noticed their presence.

  “What is the matter?” Carol whispered.

  Melanie was more upset than Carol had ever seen her. “Carol, you have to run away, they’re going to get you.”

  Carol felt her stomach knot up. “For God’s sake, Melanie, will you make sense for once? Who’s going to get me?”

  Melanie looked around nervously. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I was in geometry when someone came in with a note, and the teacher sent me off to the main office. Then one of the secretaries took me into Peterson’s office, When she went out there was me, Peterson, and this other guy. Peterson tells me this guy wants to talk to me, and I should answer his questions, and that nothing I say
will have any effect on me and school, and that in fact, if I answer the questions, he’d put a good word into my college record.”

  “Who was the guy?”

  “I don’t know! I mean, he must have been a cop. He started out asking how I was doing in school, if I had friends in school, stuff like that. Then he asks me who my best friends are, and I listed you, and a half-dozen others. Well. All of a sudden he seems more interested, and asks me a couple of silly questions about Patty, and then starts asking about you.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Just silly things, about how we eat lunch together, and sometimes we go on double dates, and dumb stuff like that.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Lemme finish. After a little diddly stuff like that, he asks me, real casual like, if I ever go over and visit at your house. So I said, sure, sometimes I did, and then he asks me if I know your family, your mom and dad.”

  “My dad?”

  “Yeah. So I told him how your dad got killed in the car accident years ago—I mean, everyone knows that, Carol.”

  “Go on!”

  “So he just says oh, and then asks if your grandmother lives there, too.” She looked rather uncertain about how to continue. “Well, I told him, I mean, he must have known that already if he asked me. It’s no secret!”

  Carol repressed an urge to scream at her. “Would you please just tell me what happened, already?”

  “Oh, Carol! He started asking about how your grandmother was, and hadn’t she been sick, and was she better now, and how did I think it happened that she got so Much better so fast!”

 

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